Aequitus
Backstory An orphanage. Too nice a name for this place. They should've gone with 'pit'. Full of smelly children. I probably smell too. Apparently worse, as nobody seems to want to be near me. Not even the adults. They just hide it better. I hate black eyes. You'd think being small and scrawny would help to avoid them. Experience proves otherwise. Somehow I'm still to blame. A weekly black eye for five long winters is everyone's dream, right? I'm not sure what they want me to say. I don't want pots and pans to explode. They shouldn't chuck them at my face. Doesn't matter though, it seems. The guards are here. Off to the mines, it is. Happy birthday. Never thought I'd like the mines better. At least everyone's an outcast here. The Tabaxi has a contact for some interesting wine. There's something extra in it, he just won't tell me what. Doesn't matter, makes the barracks less cold. I've only learned two useful things here over the last forty full moons: I hold my drink better if I eat beforehand, and nobody messes with a guy holding a pick-axe. Somehow the overseer likes me. Or I think he does, as he keeps saying “you don't belong here”, which I choose to take as a compliment. I think I made friends with my canary, too. Might just be the grains I slip him, though. "What's the point?” He looks like he wants to blow up in anger, but is too afraid to do so. “Just go. Look for the radiant blue flower garden. They're the only ones that can save you... Or save us from you. Please, leave. Enough people have been hurt today.” Fine. But I'm taking this whiskey. I should've brought the canary. He could've fed me for once. At least I've got shelter. Blessed be the aging farmers, unaware of weary travelers in their barns. Hope they've got apple trees. This 'south' is a long walk, and I'm already out of whiskey. Okay, I guess the blue flowers really are radiant, and sort of impressive. People make too much of it, though. I'm more intrigued by the old hooded man who's staring at me. “Come in, son. We've been awaiting your arrival.” That's the most disturbing thing I've heard all year. This is the best life has ever been. I'm eating the best food I've ever eaten, making it nearly worthwhile to have kitchen duty every single night. You'd think the other Wayward Disciples could pick up a brush and a pot every now and again. At least they accept me. Not friendship, however. Just acceptance. I just wish they'd let me practice more. I could make two flames dance on a sheet of paper without burning it, and they'd still shout “control, control!” I don't know why I kept dragging around my orphanage name. I needed something that would fit better. Aequitus, I started calling myself. Not even a chuckle, from any of them. I would make for a poor court jester. They talk about going into town for produce and supplies like I should consider it a treat. Maybe it is for them, with their beards and respectability. I mostly get side-eyed glances. I don't ever do anything to upset people. I'm just upsetting, apparently. Not to Alara though. She's always overly friendly, like she's making up for everybody else. She's got way too pretty a name and face for a shopkeeper's daughter. I've asked her before why people shun me. “You are just... unsettling in close proximity. I can't tell you why. It just is.” “Why are you so nice to me, then?” I shouldn't have asked, but I couldn't help myself. “Because I don't think it's your fault.” She's too nice for this world. I think I'll sneak a bottle of wine or two into my room tonight. Turns out those herbs were not for smoking. They were for spell-casting. I like the former better. They'll never let me funnel my full potential into the more resplendent magic anyhow. He knows. And he knows I know he knows. Three years of this ridiculous game. I will never know my parents, but can I at least know why everyone acts cautiously and unnerved in my vicinity? They won't touch my pendant either. They might think I haven't noticed, but I have. I'm not getting rid of it. It's the only thing I've had as long as my memories. I've been trying to trick the pendant. I can't do it while I'm sober. No matter at what angle I hold it then, the symbol is always upright. Rum doesn't solve the puzzle either, I forget and start doubting myself. Maybe those mushrooms the headmaster declared unfit for dinner... Alara is so easily excited. “Did you see the pamphlet? I couldn't imagine what kind of adventures would await anyone in Hardholme!” Nor will she ever. She'll inherit the family store, and pass it on to her children in the end. Hopefully she passes on her kindness as well. Hardholme is for people with nothing to lose, or who've over-extended their stay. Maybe even a place with answers. They would forgive me for stealing the gold. Hell, they'd better. I've washed so many pots and pans that I would've earned that wage as an innkeeper's assistant. They will not forgive me for stealing those books, however. It doesn't matter. They won't follow me where I'm going. I can't carry this pendant around my neck anymore. Too unique, too memorable. It's for the better, I don't really want to give strangers a chance to identify it before I know what it is. On The Ship '' ''Confined for five years with eleven strangers. I should be finding this more disconcerting. Guess I'm used to it. Most people prefer to remain strangers to me. At least this five year confinement is going somewhere, unlike the mines. I'm going to have to do a better job at hiding my pendant. I don't really want anyone getting any ideas before we get to Hardholme. It took a few tries to get the pendant properly attached to my forearm with leather straps. I'm happy it's done now. Keeping secrets is hard when you're sharing a room with five others. I loathe it. It reminds me of the orphanage. Luckily, everyone here has grasped the basic concept of personal hygiene. On a first-name basis with everyone. No avoiding that on this vessel. I know some of them only act friendly towards me out of necessity. It's good enough for now. I am in no hurry. I'm happy Buckler is on this voyage. Somehow, not being the only human makes it less bad to be stuck here. He also does a great job of not showing that my presence is unsettling. I don't have much to talk about with him, though. Not that he's lacking in stories about the Silver Flame. He's just too nice and proper. A real knight. I suppose just listening passes the time all the same. I hope the realities of Hardholme won't make him bitter. It's nice to have someone around of whom I do not need to be wary. It's been weeks now. I thought my life was repetitive and mundane before. I stand corrected. Wish I could dig into that supply of mead in the storage. But no, I can't risk sinking into oblivion. I have to be on my guard. In another place, Fitz would've annoyed me to no end. On this vessel, however, his endless stories are a blessing. I don't need to say or share much. Not that I would get much chance. He's going to run out of things to tell one day... I can't believe I got stuck with the dishes again. I really hope this isn't the Gods revealing to me my true calling. Still, less dishes than when I was with the Wayward Disciples. I can't play chess with Fitz anymore. I like to form my strategies in silence. How am I going to avoid hurting his feelings? Perhaps I'll take him up on that offer to teach me Goblin speak. There's no shortage of time around here, after all. It's been a year-and-a-half now. I've come to call Fitz and Buckler friends. Never thought I'd have friends. Maybe my unsettling aura loses its potency after a spell. I have no trouble with the rest of the group and they don't seem to mind me as much anymore, either, but I didn't come here to be everyone's friend and confidante. Couldn't resist it anymore. The mead was delicious. I kept it to a single bottle. The best I could do. No need for accidents on this journey. Buckler tried to teach me some basic sword parrying yesterday. We both agree now that I'm an 'all the way in the back' kind of adventurer. Good thing my robes are a few sizes too big, so I can hide the rips and cuts I managed to inflict upon myself. I really shouldn't wield any blade larger than a dagger. I wonder if Hardholme is looking for Goblin-to-Common translators? I doubt Fitz would take the job, but I wouldn't mind having a backup plan if Hardholme turns out to be a disappointment. If only he wasn't so damned quiet all the time, I would've heard him coming. Instead he saw me studying the pendant. I could tell he knew something was going on with it. Kamara has that atmosphere of unspoken knowledge about him. Perhaps this silent scholar can help me in the end. He seems to keep to himself at least. If I had told Fitz about the pendant, probably everybody would've known by now. I'm not going to show Kamara the books, though. They're pretty rare, so there's a chance he can tell I couldn't have procured them in an non-clandestine fashion. I finally have friends, I don't need them to treat me like a thief. As it turns out, Kamara is a way better chess partner than Fitz. I sometimes get the feeling that he's playing an entirely different game in his head. If he is, it isn't helping my odds of winning. I just realized it has been over a month since I last thought about the orphanage. Is this a good thing, or is this glorified carriage driving me unto the brink? I need a drink. It's been four years now. It is a good thing nobody can know beforehand what it's like to be stuck in a vessel for this long, or there would be no Hardholme. Still, I could've gotten a worse group of people to be stuck with on this journey. Kamara and I haven't really talked about the pendant since the night he caught me with it. He usually keeps to himself and doesn't say much unless necessary, so I sort of just assumed he'd let me know if he had any ideas. My curiosity finally got the better of me, and I went up to the Landing Room to ask him. In the end, I had to settle for “answers will come for us”. I got struck by my own reflection this morning. I've seen nearly twenty-nine changes of seasons, but I look like I could've fathered a son approaching manhood himself. It doesn't help that now I can finally grow a beard, it's predominantly gray. That was embarrassing. Seeing my belongings moved about got me in a state. Turns out they were just put aside so people could sweep the floor. I hope this isn't going to cost me, although I couldn't help but feel a bit of grim satisfaction because a few of the faces around the common room looked a little scared. Guess they didn't see that coming from a gray, robed man the height of a tall dwarf. The landing is only a few weeks away. This was the most pleasant of all the things I've called 'confinement' over the course of my life. Let's hope the next part of the journey exceeds expectations.